


Invasion and Occupation

by quicksilver_nightsky



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Chubby Prompto Argentum, Cultural Assumptions, Cultural Differences, Enamoured Gladio, Imperial Occupation, Internalised Fatphobia, Invasion, M/M, Negative Thoughts, Pirates/Marauders, Prince Prompto Argentum, Questionable Consent, Reclaiming Territory, Sex Deals, Technology vs Magic, Treaties, possessive noctis, protective ignis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-29 23:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17817470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilver_nightsky/pseuds/quicksilver_nightsky
Summary: It is a dance they have been doing for a thousand years, Niflheim and Lucis, fighting for ownership of Insomnia, and the control of the surrounding lands, driving one another out into the wilderness.Noctis, future king of the Lucii, who have become raider nomads exiled from their homeland, reclaims the city of Insomnia for his people. But the peculiar prince of the Niffs, isn't going to surrender the safety of his city quietly. He has a deal for Noctis, but who is really leading this dance?





	1. A Deal

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry. I should be writing ANY of my WIPs, but I've had major writer's block and this was actually writing so I'm gonna go ahead and post it so you have SOME kind of update.
> 
> Content warnings: questionable consent, discussions of rape as something that the raiding parties do, fantasy style violence, mentions of slavery. Difference in political opinions you may or may not agree with. 
> 
> The Lucii raider nomads don't depict a certain race or culture, but I've drawn from Vikings, and a little bit from Spartans, and some from the Dothraki in A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones. It's a mish-mash of warriors who raid and live nomadic lives, I don't even know. Also they have magic, like the Lucii from the game.  
> Similarly the Niffs don't depict any specific race and culture, more fantasy/tropey medieval monarchies but with technology.   
> Both make negative assumptions about each other.

Noctis swung his sword through the last steel-covered guard and let him fall to the ground with a loud clang. Once he was surrounded only by the sound of the breathing and shifting of his party, he pulled back his food. 

"Send for King Regis," he announced. "We've taken back our homeland." 

  
…  


His party was moving around the Citadel, gathering up the remaining residents to keep in their own dungeons — while he sprawled in the King's Bedroom and enjoyed the treasures of the invaded pantry. 

And then, to disrupt his peace, his Shield stepped into the room. "You've got some blond lush demanding an audience with you." 

"The hell is an audience?" He grumbled, setting down the leg of some sort of roasted game bird. 

"Dunno, but he ain't leaving." 

Noct groaned and shifted so he was sitting properly in the throne-like chair, instead of throwing his legs over the side to get comfortable. "Ugh. Send him in then." 

The blond certainly was a lush, the kind that only existed in these over-affluent cities. He was plump, dressed in silk and finery, hair neatly combed and arranged. Hands soft like he'd never done a day's work in his life. 

He held his head high, met Noct's eyes in a way few people were unafraid enough to do. "I've come to negotiate." He spoke in a peculiar dialect of Noct's own tongue - like the old priests, but with a strange adaption of the accent and rhythm. Comprehensible, but alien to his ears. 

He scoffed. He hated all this political crap. He was a raiding party leader. "What do you think you're negotiating for?" 

The lush raised his chin defiantly. "You're going to release the families of the noblemen and the Citadel staff, and let them leave the city unimpeded." 

He raised his eyebrows. "Uh-huh?" 

"I'm going to assume you want to keep the royal council and the Emperor around, I can understand that. But there's no reason the rest should be imprisoned and kept under your mercy. They haven't done anything wrong." 

He glanced at Gladio, to share the moment between them — a silent, ' _can you believe this_?' — and then he looked back at the lush. "And what are you offering in return?" 

He took a deep breath, and spoke boldly: "me." 

Gladio and Noct looked at each other and laughed. What use could he have for this lush? 

The skin on his face grew splotchy and pink, but his determined expression didn't change. "I'm not some naive, sheltered idiot. I know what you do during your raids. The pillaging, slaughtering the able-bodied men, raping the women, stealing the children for slavery. If you want to conquer, do it symbolically. Through me." 

"You?" Gladio laughed. 

"All the reputation and domination you'd get doing all that to the innocent citizens, you can get just the same when the nobles know that you're conquering the crown prince." 

More than just a simple lush then. A prince. 

He glanced at his Shield, who sort of shrugged. Neither of them knew how to navigate this political crap — their job was usually to get in, subdue the locals, then get away with all they could carry. 

If they _did_ kill anyone, it was trained soldiers — or armed fools who wouldn't back down. And the rest! He'd only bedded his party, and they didn't deal in _slaves_. They didn't have _homes_ to send slaves back to. 

But he wasn't surprised that's what the Niffs said about them. Painted them as barbarians, the stuff of nightmares. 

If this lush was going to offer himself to save his people from something that wouldn't occur, who was he to turn down a willing partner? "Strip then," he challenged. 

There was the splotchy pink on his face again. The lush glanced at Gladio as if nervously, then he took a deep breath and reached up to unbutton the silk shirt. He slid the almost feminine blouse off his arms, and let it crumble to the ground. 

There were all the signs of his lush lifestyle. His skin was soft and hairless, the only scars being stretch marks around thick flesh. Everywhere had at least a couple extra inches of plump fat. It was concentrated greater in certain areas — curving his upper arms, cushioning his belly, and widening his hips. And on his chest, fat gathered on his pecs in a way that made them look almost like breasts. 

"And the rest." 

"I'm not stupid." He took of a roll of paper out of his pocket and unfurled it onto the table in front of Noct. "You're going to sign a guarantee first." 

Like a piece of paper could make him do anything he didn't want to. But if this was a trade, it was a matter of honour and he'd stick to it. If this lush prince wanted a physical proof, he'd indulge him. 

He produced a pen from another pocket. "Do you want me to scribe?" 

"You think I can't write?" Noct sneered. 

"I don't know. I know nothing about your culture," the lush replied. "Can you?" 

Noct snatched the pen. 

_I, Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV, do forthwith declare: In exchange for the exclusive use of the body of_

He paused then, and glanced up at the prince. "Write your name." 

  


_I, Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV, do forthwith declare:_

__

_In exchange for the exclusive use of the body of Imperial Crown Prince Prompto of Argentum, I will release certain people from imprisonment in the Citadel Dungeons._

__

_This group excludes all members of the Royal Council and governing bodies. This group includes families of nobles not assigned to governing duties; and all members of the Citadel staff._

__

_This group will be allowed to leave the boundaries of the city of Insomnia without being impeded by any member of the Lucii._

  


__

_Signed:_   
_Noctis Lucis Caelum Prompto Argentum_   
_Witnessed: Gladiolus Amicitia_

  


He rolled the paper up and gave it to his Shield. "Wait outside. When you hear my finish, you can send the order to the party to separate the prisoners and release the right ones." 

Gladio put a fist over his chest and bowed, hiding the amused expression from the lush, before leaving the room. 

Noct turned to the prince — Prompto, apparently. "Well? Strip then." 

He waited for the door to close, and then untied the belt about his waist. "Where do you want me?" He asked, sliding the fabric of his pants down. 

There were more signs of his lifestyle revealed by the fabric. A soft rump to cushion the days he spent sitting in place, but surprisingly muscular calves and ankles — probably from the number of stairs around the Citadel he had to climb to get around. 

Prompto glanced back at him, and he recalled he'd been asked a question. The blond repeated it, more carefully enunciating the words this time — as if Noct hadn't been able to understand him the first time. 

"On the bed is fine." 

Prompto glanced at the bed and took a shaky breath. It was the first sign of real hesitation he'd showed so far. But then he squared his shoulders and stepped out of his slipper-like suede boots. He knelt onto the bed and shuffled forward on knees. 

Noct grunted and stood, the old knee injury protesting after being still for so long. He unfastened his pants and pulled himself out, approaching the bed. The prince had settled on all fours, knees spread slightly. He made a surprised noise when he saw a dark round object in his asshole. 

He touched it with curious fingers. "What's this?" 

"Ah," Prompto said, embarrassed. "I didn't think you'd care to prepare me so… I did before I arrived." 

It was a surprisingly arousing thought. "You were so sure I'd agree?" 

"...no. But I wasn't going to risk it." 

Casting out his magic, he summoned a bottle of scented oil and uncorked it, dipping in his fingers. He slicked himself up, and gripped the end of the object in slippery fingers to tug it out. It was almost as thick as himself though much shorter. It was shiny with some sort of oil that also glistened around the closing entrance. 

"Ready?" He asked. 

Prompto huffed a soft laugh. "Why bother asking?" 

"Don't they teach you _manners_ here?" Still, it was an implied yes. He held himself in hand and pressed his tip against the furled hole, pushing in with a firm thrust. 

Prompto made a shuddering gasp as he sheathed himself fully. He groaned at the tight feeling surrounding his cock, closing his eyes to give him a moment. He was no stranger to the pleasures shared between men — and Prompto was as tight as any ass he'd been offered. 

After a moment, he drew back and thrust quickly back in. A sound of pleasure escaped Prompto's lips, he seemed almost surprised by it. 

"Have you had men before?" He asked, shifting so he was laying across the broad back, placing his hands outside Prompto's fists clenching the sheets. 

The blond panted, rocking back into his thrusts, sweat gathering on the pale skin. "Multiple men? No. You're only the second. But I _have_ done this before." 

Noct shifted one hand to explore the naked chest, cupping a soft pec in his hand and tweaking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He'd never really understood Gladio's fascination with women's bodies — he preferred the hardened, muscular planes of the men in his party. Their cocks, as most of them had, the strength that came more naturally to their bodies. _They're soft_ , Gladio had attempted to explain over aged wine in a victory party, _curved. It's nice._

He liked the prince's body, though. His flesh rippled with each thrust, the flesh of his ass and thighs was yielding as he pressed into him. 

He ran his hand down the rounded stomach to tug on the hard cock, then back up to tease at his chest again. 

Prompto huffed slightly, reaching up to swat at his hand. "Those aren't tits. I'm not a woman." 

Noct laughed slightly, shifting his hand back down. "Mm. I got that from when you said your name was _Prince_ Prompto, not princess." 

"Plus, I have a dick," he groaned, thrusting the appendage in question forward into Noct's hand. 

He gave a flat hum. "Like that matters." He knew a number of women with dicks, and men without. Niffs were so closed minded. 

Prompto seemed too preoccupied with pleasure to talk again. Noct focussed on chasing his own end, and when the blond spilled onto his hand and the sheets of the bed his muscles tightened like a vice around Noct and he thrust deep to come himself. 

He nuzzled into the sweat-slick neck as he enjoyed the lingering bliss of ecstasy. Then he became aware that the prince's arms were trembling with effort to keep them both upright. 

He disengaged with a groan and stood up off the bed. He wiped himself clean with a soft rag and then tossed it at the prince so he could clean himself off. 

He refastened his pants and headed to the door. But Gladio was already sending off another member of the party with instructions in regards to the prisoners. 

He gave his Shield a cool nod and closed the door again. When he turned around, Prompto was redressing, his expression closed. "Staying for dinner? You must be hungry." 

Prompto flinched slightly at that. He rose to his feet, sliding them into his shoes. "No." He bowed shallowly to Noct, then limped towards the door. Not so used to lying with men as he claimed to be then. "I'm in the west spire. If you have need of me again." 

Noct settled sideways in the throne again. "Hm. I'll visit you again soon then." 

"As you wish." Then the prince stepped out of the door, closing it quickly but quietly behind him. 

Noct leaned on one fist and looked after his direction. What a weird guy. 


	2. Silk

Prompto looked up as the door opened. Without a knock. Iggy shot the door a wary glare, shifting to stand protectively between him and the door. 

The Warlord entered the room, his continually-shirtless companion just behind him. Iggy did not relax.

“So many stairs,” the Warlord complained, as he threw himself onto Prompto’s neatly made bed. Prompto was struck again by how _young_ he seemed, to be the one leading the team that had invaded his city. 

The shirtless one just grunted. He seemed to be a man of few words, but he was no dumb brute - there was a sharpness in his eyes Prompto knew to be wary of.

Prompto was low-key glad that _he_ wasn’t the one he had to sell himself to in order to secure amnesty for the castle residence. He was reasonably certain he could overpower the Warlord if he needed to, but he had no chance with the other one.

“Who’s this?” Shirtless grunted, staring intensely at Ignis.

“My chamberlain and valet, Ignis Scientia,” he explained carefully.

“I thought all the servants left the city,” the Warlord said suspiciously. 

Prompto sighed while Iggy inhaled sharply. They’d had this conversation too, when he’d showed up in Prompto’s room, still mussy from the dungeon. 

“I,” Ignis said, his voice unrelenting steel, “am loyal to my _prince_. I shan’t abandon him to savages in times of peril simply to save my own hide.”

The two raiders looked at him, their expressions making it clear they were struggling to understand him. That was fair - Iggy’s Tennebraen accent was as far from the coarse Raider’s dialect as you could get without speaking a different language altogether.

Iggy spoke up again: “his highness is preparing for bed. What business do you have with him?” 

They seemed to understand enough of that. “Noctis,” the muscular man replied, mimicking Iggy’s haughty tone, “has come to have the prince. As per the terms of the agreement.”

“Agreement?” Iggy demanded, turning his accusatory gaze on Prompto now.

He picked up his comb and began untangling his hair so he didn’t have to meet his friend’s gaze. “Yes.” He spoke in Tennebraen now, for privacy. 

“To let him come and _have_ you, whenever he takes his fancy?”

“I don’t have anything else but myself to bargain with. I wasn’t going to let them take advantage of my people if I could do something about it.”

Iggy looked furious. “You can’t seriously expect me to stand by and allow this to happen?”

“No. I expect you to leave while it happens and respect my decision and my own choice.” He set down his comb. “You can leave the city if you like. Like you should have before, as soon as you got the chance. It’s not safe here.”

“I will _not_ leave you to the questionable mercy of these barbarians!” 

Prompto sighed. “Then when you come back, would you bring clean sheets?”

Ignis’s expression pinched, but he turned away. “As you bid, your highness.” He gave the Warlord a fierce warning glare and strode out. Muscles went after him, eyes intent on his back.

Prompto turned in his seat, away from the mirror, once the door was closed behind them. “Can you tell your guy not to kill Iggy please?” He asked the him, switching back to their shared language. 

“Kill?” The Warlord asked. Then he laughed. “That’s not what he wants. He’s enamoured with him.”

Enamoured. That was such an old fashioned word. They hardly used it any more - Prompto had to wonder if it meant the same thing for the Raiders.

“Well,” he said. “I’d ask you to tell him to keep his hands to himself, but Iggy will cut them off before he lets anyone touch him when he doesn’t want it.” He stood up, crossing to his bedside drawer to take out his lube. “I’ll be out in a bit. Just let me prepare.”

“You don’t have to go,” the Warlord said, reaching out to grab his wrist and halt him. “I can do it.”

He came to a stop, surprised. “You what?”

A soft huff of a laugh escaped the Warlord. “Prepare you. For me.” He said. “I can, you don’t need to go into the bathroom to do it.”

He paused, staring at him a moment longer. “I didn’t think you’d care to,” he admitted. 

“It’s all part of the experience,” he continued. 

He lingered a moment longer. “Uh. I’d rather you didn’t,” he admitted. “I’ll take care of it myself.” 

The hand around his wrist let go, dropping back to the bed. The Warlord nodded and closed his eyes, relaxing into Prompto’s pillows. 

He headed into the adjoining bathroom, undressing from his pyjamas (there was no point letting them get dirty) and gave himself a quick clean with a face washer. 

Then he slicked his fingers up, rubbing his fingers together to warm the cool liquid. Then he carefully propped his foot up and slipped a finger into himself, but like Iggy had taught him. 

He tried to avoid sensitive areas as he fingered himself open in preparation. It felt somehow wrong to enjoy himself when this was meant to be an arrangement to save his people from the wrath of their invaders. He’d felt guilty that yesterday he’d come. 

But he’d always been sensitive. He was already hard just from fingering himself open. 

He cleaned his fingers off and recapped the lube. He pulled a silk dressing robe off the hook on the bathroom door and covered himself up. There was nothing attractive about his obese, sagging body. The Warlord and his companion had actually laughed at him when he’d offered himself. Like the idea of finding him attractive enough to fuck was absurd. But he was the prince, and this was political. 

He was actually surprised the Warlord had sort him out again, but maybe this was a move to subjugate him. As if fucking him in the emperor’s bed hadn’t been enough. 

Taking a deep breath, he headed back out to the bedroom. The Warlord was still sprawled on his bed, as if it too belonged to him now. 

Prompto stood at the foot of the bed and cleared his throat awkwardly. One eye peeled open — a soft, almost pretty blue revealed behind inky black eyelashes. 

“All done?” He asked. 

Prompto nodded. When the Warlord patted his thighs in invitation, he swallowed and climbed onto the bed and shifted until he was straddling the other. 

Roughly callused fingers stroked down his chest, humming. “Soft…” he murmured. It must be, compared to the leather and coarse hempen linen and furs of the raider’s own garb. 

Prompto shivered against the sensations of the silk being rubbed along his bare skin underneath. He moved his hands down to untie the sash holding the robe closed, but the Warlord’s fingers wrapped around his wrists to halt him. 

He gave the him a confused look, but only received a head shake in return. Then he resumed the maddening task of stroking his hands all over the silk and rubbing the flesh underneath. 

Prompto tried to stay quiet, but the pleasurable sensations stacked up, heat curling in his lower belly and spreading through his loins. It wasn’t long until he was squirming and whimpering under the teasing touches. 

He threw his eyes open with a gaps when he felt a fist curl around him over the silk of his robe. He dropped his gaze down to the Warlord, who was smirking up at him intently. 

He shuddered. “I-Iggy is gonna be pissed if he has to wash cum out of this robe,” he said. 

“Iggy,” Noct repeated, giving a firm stroke. “Ignis. He’s your former lover, isn’t he?”

Prompto felt his cheeks flush with more blood. “What does it matter?”

The hand moved away, running along his thighs to part the drapes of fabric and expose his stretchmarked skin. “I want him to hear you moaning my name. Knowing that it is _me_

_who gives you pleasure now.”_

__

Prompto laughed softly, shifting up so he could push the fabric out from underneath him. “He’s not jealous, you know?” He pointed out. 

__

“He looked very angry,” the Warlord pointed out, unknotting the sash and separating the front to expose his chest and stomach. 

__

“He is angry. But not jealous. We haven’t been lovers for years.” He moaned and shivered as callused hands brushed his oversensitive skin to push the robe down his shoulders and arms. 

__

“Hm.” He sat up and tugged Prompto closer, so he was pressed against the erection trapped beneath leather. “I still want you to.”

__

Prompto bit his lip and didn’t answer. What even was the Warlord’s name? Shirtless had said it before — what was it? N something. N-O… Noctis? Yeah. 

__

He arched when Noctis’s fingers pressed into his slick entrance, crooking them up and pressing against that wonderful nub of nerves that fired pleasure through his whole body. He moaned, eyes fluttering closed at the sensations. 

__

The Warlord continued to tease and finger him as he unlaced his pants and drew them down enough to expose his hard dick. He was so eager for it by the time he was ready, he shoved Noctis down against the pillows so he could shift forward. 

__

The Warlord growled back at him, almost playfully. But that playful smirk disappeared when Prompto gripped his dick in hand and began to lower himself on it. 

__

He moaned as the hot shaft pressed into him, filling him up and nudging against his prostate as it passed. He moaned, resting his weight as he got used to the sensation. It was so very good, and they’d only just started. 

__

Carefully he used his leg muscles to raise himself a little bit, a soft moan escaping his lips as the dick slid past his prostate again. Callused hands gripped his hips, holding him steady as Noctis thrust up into him. 

__

They moved together, each pass against his prostate driving his pleasure higher and higher. It wasn’t long until he was slicked with sweat, breathe heaving — hair falling in his eyes in clumps. 

__

He lifted one hand to swipe his fringe up and out of the way, then lowered it back down to brace himself on Noctis’s chest again. The trim body was slick with sweat too, pooling in the grooves of defined muscles. 

__

With a shaky breath, he raised his eyes to the Warlord’s face. He was almost startled to see the blue eyes watching him back, face flushed with pleasure. 

__

Feeling embarrassed, he arched his neck back and focussed on chasing his orgasm. 

__

Just as he was getting there, he felt Noctis’s hand grip his leaking dick. But it wasn’t to stroke, oh no. He squeezed his fingers in a tight ring around the base, choking off his orgasm. 

__

“H-hey!” he protested, trying to tug his hand away with no success. 

__

“Say it,” Noctis growled lustfully. “Cry out my name and I’ll let you finish.”

__

“Noctis!” he called, voice wrecked with pleasure. “Oh, Six! _Please_!”

__

The fingers loosened, and with a long slow tug, Noctis pulled him over the edge. In the wash of pure white bliss, he could feel the dick inside him shoot cum into his clenching muscles. He keened a little at the feeling, and when he could think again, he moved off to collapse on the bed next to the Warlord. 

__

He panted hard, trying to catch his breath again. He blinked fuzzily at Noctis until his face came into focus. He had a soft, sort of smug smile on his face. 

__

Prompto felt his face heat, though he wasn’t sure why, and turned to hide it in the pillow. 

__

He had to get up soon, bathe again, recomb his hair and apply his face lotion. Give Iggy time to put on fresh sheets. 

__

But that was future him problem. Right now he was just going to lie here and bask in the afterglow. 

__


	3. Culture

Noct didn't get to see Prompto as often as he liked. Mostly because he never seemed to leave his tower, and that was far too many stairs to navigate more than once a day. 

It was the Seventh Day, and after their religious ceremonies he had the whole day to spend at his leisure. It was noon, but he headed to the West Tower anyway. Perhaps he could linger in the prince's room, there was bound to be something to do. What on Eos did Niffs do for fun anyway? 

He navigated the winding stairs up to the room at the top of the tower, letting himself take more breaks to rest his leg than he would if Gladio was accompanying him. But it was his Shield's day of rest too - he didn't need to shadow Noct's every move. 

When he stepped through the door, Ignis Scientia looked up to glare at him as usual. His gaze narrowed in confusion to see Noct, even more so when he flicked his gaze to the empty doorway. 

Noct nodded to him in greeting, and shifted his eyes around the room to take it all in. Ignis was sitting closest to the door. In his hands was a strange wooden circular frame, fastening a pure white fabric tight in place - he appeared to be using coloured thread to sew a flower onto the fabric in tiny stitches. Was he mending a tear? What was the point of such useless fancy work for a simple repair of a rag cloth? 

Prompto was sitting by the window at a strange standing frame like the kind for painting, except it held the paper almost flat in place instead of upright. He was facing out the window, but he'd turned when the door opened to look who'd entered. He held a long, skinny paintbrush of fine, pale hair dipped in paint as blue as the sky. 

He blinked, and set his brush down in a cup. He stood up carefully, untying a paint-splattered apron from his fine silk outfit. "Noctis," he greeted calmly. "I didn't expect you at this time." 

"It's Leisure Day, I had no business to do today," he answered with a shrug. 

Prompto's face wrinkled up into an endearing expression of confusion. "On a Saturday?" 

"Obviously," he answered. 

"Not Sunday?" Prompto added, still confused. 

"Yes?" He echoed doubtfully. 

"What a curious difference," Ignis remarked, stopping their back and forth. He stabbed the needle half in and half out of his fabric and set it aside. Rising to his feet, he pushed up the spectacles further onto his face. "I ought to prepare luncheon anyway. Ring the call bell whence you've finished." 

"Thank you, Iggy." Prompto's eyes followed him out of the room, then returned to Noct. "I'll have to go prepare." 

He considered offering to take care of it, but the prince was already grabbing his oil from the bedside table and going to the bathroom. The past few times, Prompto had already been prepared for his arrival. The bedsheets turned down and covered in a thick, soft cloth to catch any mess - and Prompto himself slick and full of a short, phallic object to keep him stretched. 

As arousing as the thought was that Prompto was anticipating and preparing for him, he liked this better. Listening to the sweet sounds he made as he fingered himself open. 

He'd heard Niffs were prudes. Prompto seemed so shy about his own pleasure - almost reluctant to take it until the pleasure overwhelmed his timidity. Watching the passionate lover emerge from his protective shell was half his enjoyment in having the Prince. 

The bed was made up with too many small pillows, so many they took up half the bed. Beds here were delightful. Most of his life, Noct had slept in either a hammock, or a fleece-stuffed roll and furs on the floor of his tent. 

The stress of holding Insomnia, while he waited for the King to come secure their claim, was worth it for the use of the Emperor's own bed. It had a wooden frame to hold it above the ground, with four posts that held up thick curtains. On top of the frame was a feather-filled cushion, almost a foot deep that felt like a cloud. A strange kind of blanket was laid on top of indulgently soft sheets, a large sack of a kind, stuffed with more feathers. And the Pillows! Sleeping had become his second favorite activity. Second only to sex. 

Prompto left the bathroom, draped in the shimmery, silky silver robe woven with flowers and vines. He was carrying the soft, clean cover to keep the bed clean. Noct scoffed when he saw him toss all the smaller pillows to the floor. "Why have them at all if you're just going to throw them on the floor?" He asked. 

Prompto paused and blinked. As if he'd never thought of the question before. "I don't know," he answered carefully. "That's just the way Iggy makes it in the morning."

He huffed again, and once the clean cover was down, he lowered his trousers and lay down on the bed. Prompto parted the skirt of the robe around his thighs and straddled his hips.

By the time they had both finished - Prompto twice, to the prince's flustered surprise - the silk robe was on the ground with the extra pillows. He raised himself up so the prince could take away the soiled cover, then lazily collapsed back onto the bed. This bed was almost as nice as the one he'd stolen from the Emperor. 

  


He woke up with a start, reaching for the dagger from his armiger. He slowly calmed as he recognized the prince's tower bedroom. 

Ignis Scientia was frowning at him warily, hands paused midway through his strange mending task. He eyed the dagger, lips turning down in disapproval. 

Noct banished the weapon, and enjoyed the shock on the servant's face. Then he searched out the prince. 

He was back at the window, paintbrush in hand. Noct watched him for a long moment that stretched beyond polite. He was composed, looking more relaxed and peaceful than Noct had ever seen him - even the few times he'd fallen asleep after their trysts. 

He stood off the bed, but before he'd taken a few steps towards the prince, Ignis's pointed cough brought him to a stop. When he looked over, the servant nodded pointedly towards his lower half. 

Glancing down, he saw his dick hanging soft out of his parted trousers. He rolled his eyes at Ignis's prudishness, and tucked himself in and fastened up properly. 

Then he continued his way over to Prompto. 

The blond didn't seem to even notice his approach, he was so focused on his work. Noct looked down at the painting, looming over his shoulder - and blinked in surprise. 

It was the view of the city outside the window. The paints looked thin and watery, but the colours were vibrant like he'd never seen in artwork. They almost matched the colours of the world outside. 

Right then, Prompto was using a thin paintbrush to draw lines and details in black ink. The edges of buildings, windows, and doorways. He hummed in appreciation. 

"Do you like it?" Prompto asked, not pausing in a long, thin line to edge a building. 

"It's so detailed," he said, unable to keep the awe from his voice. "It looks _just_ like the outside of the window." 

Prompto put down his paintbrush to turn and look back at him. His face was screwed up, upset with him. But it changed slightly to something softer. "Oh. You're serious." 

"Obviously," he replied, frowning at him. "Why wouldn't I be?" 

Prompto didn't seem to know how to answer that question. He brushed the fringe of his hair out of his face. "I saved you some for luncheon." 

"Some what?" He questioned. 

"...Food?" Prompto answered uncertainly. 

Noct glanced out at the sky- it was still mid-afternoon. "You eat this early?" How did they make it through to morning? 

"It's usually served at noon, but you were asleep," he answered with a smile. 

"Noon?" 

Ignis cleared his throat. "Luncheon is the second of four meals a day. Breakfast, upon waking, luncheon at noon, dinner at dusk, and supper in the late evening." 

He looked between the two of them in disbelief. 

"That's twice as often as we eat." 

Prompto became shame-faced, turning away from him. "Oh," he said quietly. "That's different." 

Noct brushed his hair away from the blond's neck. "When you're done painting, come to me on the bed?" 

He saw his ears turn pink. " _Again_?" 

Noct laughed slightly. Niff's were such prudes. 

"If you think you can keep up for another round," he teased. Then he picked up a book from his shelf, and lay back in the bed to read. 

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine suggested I start a discord for readers to interact with each other and me! [So I did](https://discord.gg/pR3GVhu)! Feel free to stop by and join.


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